Greg Ch. 03

As two 18 year olds Greg and I had begun our road to discovery!

When we got to Greg's flat (see previous - chapter 2), loaded up with a rucksack of French textbooks, guides and novels, Greg showed me to a fire escape. The building was an old Victorian warehouse and Greg had the whole of the top floor of three. I was to lead the way up (I don't think Greg wanted me to have the thought of being led as a lamb to the slaughter). The white paint was crumbling off and the whole scene was not what my furtive imagination had promised. As we got to the front door Greg leaned forward to unlock it and pressed a button on his key fob whereupon the lights lit inside the flat. It is clichéd to say that my jaw dropped but there it was - I was dumbstruck. I think Greg must have tapped my rucksack or something because I dropped it and my parka and walked in wearing white Calvin Klein T shirt and black jogging pants to a sight that now mirrored my attire.

The flat (which is now legally mine for tax reasons but we share our lives in it) was pure but not brilliant white with black furnishings. The impression was stunning. There was just one room (it later transpired that at one end there is a 'pseudo wall' which hides the entrances to a toilet/shower/bathroom and a utility room). The room was divided into three areas; the living, four settees laid out in a square with a table at each corner and a coffee table centrally; the bed, central to the space and below a glazed atrium fitted with black electric blinds (the bed is rectangular but set in a circular dais which can electrically rotate albeit very slowly); and the kitchen area with granite tops and white gloss finished units (black accessories and steel utensils).

Around the room was low level furniture displaying an eclectic mix of the erotic and exotic. Wardrobes formed the 'pseudo-wall', which is why it works so brilliantly in hiding the rooms behind it. Suddenly, after my brain has relaxed sufficiently to take it all in I can hear Greg saying 'coffee?'

'Whatever' I reply and it is only then that I realise the whole flat works because of the artwork; the half life-size plates of Tom of Finland's work and others that Greg has been telling me about. I walk around drooling over them; my mouth must still be embarrassingly wide open. I am sure my hand was half way between my dick and the art works; I just wanted to feel them, stroke them, and adore them. The whole flat seemed to be a shrine to these icons and I wanted to be a part of this worship. Taking my time and letting each fill me with desire I eventually came to the opposite end of the flat to the 'pseudo-wall'. There were just three pieces, all three black and white and in a kind of soft airbrush effect; the first was a picture of Greg's Dad on a similar bike to the one in the photo.

The bike was at an angle and again he had a raging hard but this time only a helmet on the seat behind him. The centre was of an almost nude biker (Stephan) sporting leather cap and boots cock and ball strap with weights attached and holding a leather whip (or that's what it looked like to me), whilst not upright the hard-on looked pretty damn strong -- I could almost see it throbbing. I was hard and surely oozing with all this eye candy -- I just wanted to wank off in front of them, but this was Greg's flat. If I can only get over how stunned I was by all this, in my new mates flat, it is nothing to the next picture! This was a bloke in the same pose as the first, i.e. on a turned bike and fucking hell it was my Dad! With a boner and grin, he held his crash helmet on the bars but hid nothing.

Should I be ashamed, embarrassed, or what? At this point I felt a hot coffee being pressed into my hand a palm gently soothing the inside of my left thigh from the back. Greg had changed into a black silk kimono type top and stood empathising with me. I was now going through what he had done previously. He made sure I had seen his dad and Stephan and was whispering that he thought they knew that we would follow them; he mentioned that my mum knew too but as they had all been married, had their families, moved on, they had all somehow accepted it and lived with it until last year.

The picture was just so real but not an image of my dad I had ever seen or prepared myself to see. Eventually I wanted to touch his hard and stroke the picture but could not bring myself to do it in front of Greg. Neither did I want to break down and appear 'limp wristed'.

Instead I turned to Greg and kissed him hard, opened my mouth and made us one. It was Greg's flat but I led him to the bed and collapsed beside him. It was now I noticed the view of the stars, which only served to emphasise the starkness of the flat. It was like being in the open air. Greg lay back with his head down over the edge of the dais and I continued my act of worship by anointing his now rock hard member with my spit. I couldn't take my eyes from it. At last it was mine for the taking. The shaft was so smooth and slender, like a porcelain mock-up. The head crowned it like a ripe plum full of juice and ripe for the picking. I licked it, I slurped at it, I drooled over it and stroked it so gently as it seemed to bob in mid air a fraction above the downy hair that traced up to his navel. He really was that beautiful, my Adonis, remember all this on a rugby player with muscles so tight I felt I could get my fingers behind them. His patch was wet not moist as I finally worked down to his shaved balls and fondled his arse crack as Greg had done so lovingly to me in the changing rooms. I gently rolled one ball in my mouth and round my tongue, cupping the alternate in my fingers loving the freshly shaved feel. I felt Greg's hand on my head as he his dick went rigid. I moved up to lick up his shaft and bob over his mushroom as he began to jerk. 'Ryaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!!!!!' I must have taken half an hour worshiping his dick by the time his dick went berserk and into overdrive, spewing cum in my hair, up his chest, the last few drops landing in his pubes. I just continued licking around his shaft, sucking cum out of the hair as Greg rubbed it into mine.

My head was lying on Greg's thigh when he started to rub the last of his cum and my spit into his abs, he opened his knees and was it my imagination but seemed to raise his arse at the same time. It took seconds for me to get out of my T and jogging pants, and return to his spread knees. As I put one hand on each, my dick was against his clean, shaved and pulsating arse. His balls were lying so clean above, that the sight meant I was nearly shooting my load whilst holding on to my dick, which was well dripping with pre. This time Greg just whispered 'go for it Ryan'!

I didn't know anything about angles or what resistance to expect (in fact Greg had been using dildos for months). But as his arse and my dick were so wet I just seemed to slide between his buns. However, Greg stopped me and quickly lubed his arse and began to stroke lube onto my dick. I told him to stop as just a few seconds of this would make me cum. He just kissed me, licked the side of my face and neck and lay back down with his knees open as before. I looked and worshiped a pink orifice below tight clean shaven balls and a smooth (hard again) shaft pointing past a now deep red mushroom though his spread knees, up past a smooth chest to Greg's smiling god-like face. I had to push my dick down hard to rub it against puckered hole. I slid my hand down his shaft, over his balls and round his arse as I gently pushed my dick head through. Fuck it was like nothing I had imagined. Not that I had ever thought of being here until two weeks ago. His arse seemed to suck me in! It took me by surprise and I pulled out again. As I pushed back in the feeling was so intense I just wanted it time and time again so I just teased his pucker with my dick head in and out -- was I going to blow!

I managed to squeak out to Greg that I was going to cum and he said to fill him. I didn't know whether he meant with me or my cum but soon after I had lost control. At first I slid slowly into a warm, dark, inviting place, so good, but then...I ploughed into him and started bucking. Because of the angle it seemed a bit painful to me but this only heightened the sex. Bloody hell I was cumming. My arse ached with the pull of it and my whole body seemed to be forcing it out of me. My head went back. My dick pushed forward and I laid into Greg literally filling his hole. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I grabbed hard onto Greg's arse cheeks and pushed in as far as I could and forced every bit of cum my body could muster (second time in a few hours) into Greg! Cum, cum, cum, cum, cum! I could feel it backing up around my shaft. Fuck this was animal instinct at work. Greg could just manage 'fuck Ryan', I think I'd hurt him but he certainly wasn't complaining -- beginner's prerogative!

My dick ached, my arse ached, my heart ached and my head was spinning. Greg manoeuvred me round to be in his arms and we just lay there looking through at the stars and knowing this was it -- not speaking a word! Eventually I went soft inside Greg and shortly after that I was asleep.

We kept our relationship secret from school friends until the end of the term (year) -- I left the rugby team -- pressure of schoolwork for finals excuse. We then all parted ways by which time Greg and I had been living together for six months. The following day to the above I went home and mum just asked how I had got on at 'the flat' (her words) -- she knew that the inevitable had happened.

No regrets and I had been free to make my own way! 'I'd got arse at last!' (Not her words!)